


Complications

by celeste9



Series: Promise [6]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Family, Family Drama, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becker wants to meet Lester's children; Lester is not so sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complications

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by fredbassett.

Sunday mornings were Becker's favourite time of the week. As long as he didn't have the weekend shift at the ARC, on Sunday mornings he could wake up in Lester's bed and stay there as long as he wanted. If he was lucky, and if he didn't try too early, he could convince Lester that they should have a fuck before breakfast. Becker could be extremely persuasive.

Lester was in a good mood that morning and had only partaken of minimal grumbling, mostly for show, and Becker was currently lying face down on the bed with Lester's tongue in his arse, reaping the benefits.

And then Lester's mobile rang.

Becker raised his head enough to ensure his words would come across clearly. "Don't you fucking dare answer that."

He could sense Lester's hesitation and then his reluctance as he moved. "I'd better at least check who it is. Sorry, darling, it could be important."

Becker sighed and let his head fall back down. "I'm important," he grumbled and Lester petted his hair absently.

"Hello, David," Lester said into the phone and Becker experienced a twinge of guilt at having been so aggravated at the interruption.

"No, of course not. You know you can call me whenever you want. Tell me what's wrong." Lester stroked one hand down the length of Becker's spine, making Becker's muscles twitch involuntarily. He was trying to relax and quell his erection because Lester was on the phone with his son and this was all entirely inappropriate. He really was trying, but fuck, he was hard.

"Have you talked to your mother?" Lester said and then Becker jerked as the finger that had been gently stroking his spine suddenly pushed into his hole. He nearly bit his tongue trying to silence the moan he desperately wanted to make. With only spit to ease the way, Becker could feel the burn of Lester's finger inside him, but it felt amazing.

And Lester was still talking to his son. "Yes, I know, I understand," he was saying in a soothing tone of voice even as he pushed two fingers into Becker's arse. This was so wrong, Becker thought as he buried his face in the pillow, but he was definitely not complaining.

"I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry it didn't work out this weekend but I'll see you on Saturday, all right? I promise. Yes, all right. I love you, too." The bed shifted as Lester returned his mobile to the bedside table.

Becker looked back over his shoulder to where he could see Lester, head bowed and shoulders slumped. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Fine," Lester said, but Becker wasn't stupid. Lester was fine in the way that people are when they don't want to deal with the truth.

"Come here, James."

"But you--"

"Never mind that. Now come here," Becker said firmly. He couldn't help his intake of breath as Lester slid his fingers out, but he simply rolled onto his back and pulled Lester in against his chest. He skimmed his hands over Lester's sides and back while Lester gradually relaxed into his hold. Lester must have been bothered by the call to give in so easily, as Becker knew exactly how much the other man hated to appear weak in any way.

Becker remained quiet for some time. Mostly because he didn't know what to say, but also because this was veering into unfamiliar-- and uncomfortable-- territory. The two of them didn't do this. They didn't talk about anything that actually mattered. But this was important and Becker thought that maybe he couldn't let it go.

"I never wanted to make you choose between your children and me," Becker offered awkwardly. "You could've told me to shove off."

Lester tensed and for a moment Becker thought he might have made a huge mistake. "It's complicated," Lester said eventually.

"Right, of course. Everything's complicated. You know that phrase is basically meaningless, don't you? It's what people say to get out of talking about what's really going on."

"Well, maybe I don't want to talk about it, Becker, not with you. Maybe it's none of your business." Lester made as though to get up but Becker tightened his arms.

"No, James, you don't get to do that. I know we act like this is nothing but that's bollocks and we both know it. You don't get to choose to shut me out of your life like that."

Becker let Lester pull away enough that they could see each other's faces. Lester's hair was falling forward into his face and his eyes were fierce. "What do you expect me to do? Come crying on your shoulder every time my son calls me and I can't be there? Or maybe you really do want me to say, sorry, we can't have any more weekends together because I have a family. We might as well call the whole thing off, then. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not. You know I don't want that." Becker traced one hand over Lester's cheek, dropping it down to rest on top of his shoulder. "I know I don't say it much, but James, I love you. I want to know you."

"This was never supposed to be so complicated," Lester murmured.

"It's a little late for that now, don't you think? Either you want this or you don't. It can be that simple."

Lester's voice was small and tired when he spoke. "I'd rather not give you up, Hils."

Becker felt his face spread into a smile he was utterly unable to prevent. "Then don't. And you can make it less complicated, if you want."

"How?"

Becker took a breath. "You keep everything so close to your chest. I didn't even realise you had children until I saw their pictures on your mantlepiece. But when I said that I want to know you, I meant it. I want to be part of your life, James. I want to meet your family."

Lester leant his weight onto one forearm and brushed his fingertips through Becker's hair. Becker had come to realise that the act was as grounding and as comforting to Lester as it was to Becker. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? Are you that ashamed of me that you don't want your children to know me? You'd rather keep me as your dirty little secret?" Becker didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his tone-- he was hurt and he wanted Lester to know it.

"That's not fair. If things were different you know that I would--"

"I know. But I also know that introducing me to your kids is entirely different from parading me around in front of Burton. You can't keep hiding behind the same excuse when there's something else going on in your head."

Lester held his gaze for a few seconds and then dropped his eyes. "I can't. Hils, I just-- I can't. I'm sorry."

And he sounded sorry, but that wasn't enough. Becker was perfectly fine with breezing over emotions and not talking about their feelings, but this was different. This was important and they were never going to work if this wasn't settled.

Becker stifled a sigh. He couldn't handle a fight right now, so he decided to let it go. Forcing a lighter tone, he said, "I still can't believe you were fingering me while you were on the phone with your son."

Lester's laugh seemed born more out of surprise than anything else. "I didn't want you to feel neglected, sweetheart. I know how touchy you can get."

Although they bantered like normal, Lester's eyes were still shuttered and Becker knew they were far from all right.

-

The remainder of the day passed without incident, but the following days revealed the strain Becker and Lester's relationship was under. On Monday, they didn't speak at all. On Tuesday, when Becker attempted to start a personal conversation after he'd completed his report of that day's anomaly, Lester complained about paperwork and dismissed him.

It wasn't just that Lester didn't want to speak to him. It was the way he did it, the lengths he went to in order to avoid Becker, the cold way he looked at him, as though they were less than strangers. Lester had gone from pretending everything was normal to pretending Becker was nothing.

By Wednesday, Becker knew something had to be done. They could not go on like this. Lester was having a tantrum and Becker was not going to humour him.

At midday he made his way to Lorraine's desk, hoping to be able to talk Lester into going for lunch. "Is Lester free?"

Lorraine hesitated. "The technical answer is yes, but…"

Becker rubbed the back of his neck. "He told you he didn't want to see me, didn't he?"

"I'm sorry, Becker. He was quite insistent."

He forced a smile he didn't feel. "That's all right. It's not your fault." He could have simply barged into Lester's office anyway, but making a scene probably wasn't his best option. Still, if Lester thought telling his secretary to keep Becker out was enough to deter him, he was delusional.

So he stayed in the ARC long after the others had gone home, carefully checking the EMDs and cleaning the guns he was no longer allowed to use against the creatures. Every so often he would slink down the corridor to make sure Lester was still in his office, but he wasn't too concerned about Lester leaving earlier than he'd expected. Lester had a habit of staying late as it was, and the more upset he was the more he threw himself into his work.

When it was late enough that the ARC had mostly emptied, Becker strode into Lester's office and stood in front of the desk until Lester was forced to acknowledge him. "Becker, in case you haven't noticed, I'm busy. I would like to make it home at some point tonight, so if you would--" He waved vaguely toward the door.

"You're being a complete bastard and I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to."

"Bullshit, James," Becker said and slammed his hands onto the desk so that Lester would look at him. "You didn't treat me this poorly even before we were fucking and I'm not going to stand for it now."

Lester narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Becker, would you like to sit on my knee while I brush your hair and you cry about your troubles?"

"Stop deflecting!" Becker leaned across the desk until he was crowding Lester's space. "I am not joking and I'm sick of your games."

"My games?" Lester stood up so fast Becker barely had time to jerk backward so their heads didn't bash together. "You're the one who can't leave well enough alone, who insists on continually bringing up what doesn't concern you."

"Don't fucking take this out on me. I am trying, God, I'm trying so hard. You think this is easy for me?"

"Then let it go!"

Becker rounded the desk and kicked Lester's chair out of the way. Standing this close, Lester was forced to tilt his chin up in order to meet Becker's eyes. "No, James, I fucking won't let it go. You said you don't want to give me up, so we're doing this. We never talk about anything that's real, but this matters. Why don't you want your kids to know me?"

"Because you're a fucking man!" Lester shouted and then appeared shocked at himself. "Fuck," he said and ran his hands through his hair.

Realising that he was gaping like a fish, Becker closed his mouth. He had a horrible urge to laugh. "Seriously? That's why?"

"Don't you dare trivialise this, Becker. You wanted to know and I told you."

Becker put his hand on Lester's shoulder and felt him tense. He drew his hand back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just thought-- Doesn't Agatha know?"

The laugh that bubbled up out of Lester was a little bit scary to hear. "Did I tell my ex-wife that before we met I used to go with men sometimes, or that since we've divorced I have a tendency to end up with my cock in someone's arse? No, I can't say that ever came up in our conversations."

"When you put it like that--"

"Or perhaps you thought I might have mentioned you to her? 'Oh, Agatha, one more thing. You see, I've been shagging one of my employees. Yes, he's a man and he's nearly twenty years younger than me. Mid-life crisis? Oh, you know, most men go for red sports cars but I thought I'd try an inappropriately young man. It seems to be all the rage amongst you women, so I thought I'd see what all the fuss is about.'"

Becker cupped Lester's face in his hands. "Stop it, James. Stop. I'm sorry I said anything."

Lester sighed and his shoulders sagged. "What am I supposed to tell them? They've never seen me with anyone besides their mother. They already think I'm a terrible father, that I love my career more than them. How could I ever explain you?"

"I'm sorry," Becker said, just to say something. He kissed Lester's forehead, feeling the skin warm and flushed under his lips. There were issues here that went far beyond he and Lester and he had no idea what he should do.

"Damn it, Hils, this was never supposed to be anything. We were never supposed to be anything." Lester swayed forward until he was leaning against Becker as though it was too much effort to stand on his own, his head fitting against the crook of Becker's neck. Lester felt small and breakable in a way that he never did and it made something in Becker's chest just _clench_.

So he tried for levity, because that was what they did, they made jokes about what was important and never said exactly what they meant and Becker couldn't-- he needed to make this right, somehow, needed to fix it but he didn't even know how to begin. "I suppose you'd like me to apologise for being so amazing that you were unable to resist me."

"Oddly enough, you're becoming more resistible by the second."

"You only wish. Let me come home with you tonight, James. I won't bring any of this up, I swear. I just want to sleep in your bed." Becker held his breath, hoping he hadn't pushed too far.

"Yes, all right. I know how torturous it must have been for you these last few days without me."

"Who has the ego now? You're lucky you're so good in bed or I'd never put up with you."

"Ah, and the truth comes out. I should have known you only love me for my body," Lester said in a resigned way. "Can't be helped, I suppose. Come on, then. Let's go home."

-

On Thursday, even though he had spent the night with Lester and Lester had stopped ignoring him, Becker still had the overwhelming sensation that things were not right. He spent the morning distracted enough that Jess kept shooting worried glances at him and even Matt had cornered him and asked if he was all right. When he was able to slip away, he found himself in the open area outside Lester's office, which was thankfully empty. He sat in one of the armchairs and watched Lester out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what to do. Shit, he was rubbish at relationships. It almost made him want to go back to the days when Lester hadn't been anything more than a casual shag.

Almost, but not quite.

"Becker," someone was saying, but it didn't completely register. Then a hand gently shook his arm and he nearly toppled sideways in his chair.

"Abby! Shit, sorry, I had no idea you were there."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "I didn't mean to startle you, but you were completely out of it. The staring into space was a bit creepy, honestly."

"Was I staring? Lost in thought, I guess."

"About--?" Abby tilted her head in the direction of Lester's office.

Becker felt his gaze drawn in spite of his best efforts. He watched as Lester paced around the room, dictating something to Lorraine. He looked back at Abby. "We had a fight," he said without entirely meaning to, but he somehow felt slightly better having said it.

"I'm sorry," she said, her face full of sympathy. "Do you do that a lot?"

"Not really. It's hard to fight when you never talk about anything important."

"But now you have?"

"Yeah." Lorraine was exiting the office now and Lester had sat back down in his chair. Becker forced himself to look away.

"Becker." Abby laid her small hand on top of his. "You can talk to me, if you like. I know it's not really any of my business, and I know we don't normally... do this, but I'll listen if you want to talk about it. We're friends, yeah? So tell me if you want."

Abby sounded so genuinely concerned that Becker found himself considering her hesitant offer despite himself. It would be such a relief to say it out loud. He was so damn tired of all the secrets. "Did you know Lester has kids?"

"Yeah, Connor mentioned it. Is that... is that a problem for you?"

"Not for me, but it's a problem for James."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I asked him if I could meet them, his kids, because I thought it might be easier, and because... because I wanted to, but I inadvertently stumbled into a few of James' issues. Namely, neither his ex-wife nor his children have any idea that he likes men, and apparently he thinks his children hate him."

"Sounds complicated," Abby said.

Becker snorted. He was really starting to hate that word. "Did you know, Abby, that I'm actually terrible at relationships?"

She laughed. "Is that so?"

"Yes. So of course, because I'm brilliant like that, I've chosen to become involved with my much older, divorced, closeted boss and, just to make things really interesting, turns out he also happens to be the father of three disgruntled children."

"Probably not the smartest thing you could have done," Abby allowed. She squeezed Becker's hand. "But Becker, some things are worth it. Is Lester worth it to you?"

Lester was proud, stubborn, pompous, aggravating, and, yes, completely worth it. That was easy. "He's an absolute nightmare, but he's mine."

Abby smiled at him. "Then you'll just have to work through this, won't you? Use that head for something besides being pretty."

Becker pouted. "It's hard work being this pretty, but I suppose you wouldn't know."

She shoved him good-naturedly before starting to head back to the menagerie. Becker knew he should probably make himself useful as well, so he resisted taking one last look into Lester's office and pushed his personal problems to the back of his mind.

-

Becker didn't wait as long to confront Lester as he had the previous day. Although there were still people wandering the corridors, Becker knew he had to initiate this conversation before he lost his nerve.

"Can we talk?" he asked Lester.

"If I say no, you won't leave anyway, will you? Get on with it, then."

"James..." His mouth felt dry and he swallowed convulsively. "I can't tell you what to do with your life. Well, I can, but you don't have to listen. But here's what I think. What possible advantage do you get from keeping this a secret from your family? If you believe your children resent you for not being there, then why would you hide behind me as an excuse to be with them even less? I don't want that, not for you and not for me. I don't want to be another wedge between you and your family."

"I never meant for that to happen. You don't understand the situation," Lester said and he was withdrawing already, his face a mask.

Becker forced himself to stay still when every fibre of his being wanted to move closer. "That's not good enough, James. This is a fucking relationship now, whether we meant for it to happen or not, and you don't get to treat me like I'm just your piece on the side, like I can't possibly understand what's going on in your life."

"That's not what I--"

"Let me talk, will you? You're right, I don't fully understand, but that's only because you won't tell me. You have to trust me, James. You have to trust that I love you and that I want what's best for you, because I do. I want to be able to help you with the shit in your life, not just contribute to it."

Lester set his elbows upon the desk and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders heaving with his breath, as though he was overwhelmed. Unable to stay away any longer, Becker crossed the office until he was knelt down beside Lester, fuck anyone who happened to walk past. He spun Lester's chair till they were facing and put his hands on Lester's knees. Lester leant forward to press their foreheads together, gratefully accepting the contact Becker was offering and needing more. "It's such a mess, Hils," he said and Becker hated the ragged sound of his voice.

"I know, darling."

"I don't know how I let it come to this. So many little things piling up until it's just one huge fucking mess."

"Let me help you, please, James," Becker said, and if he sounded like he was begging, well, he was and he didn't care. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Just... just come home with me. I'm going to call Agatha. I'm going to tell her about you."

Becker closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

-

Lester went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Becker spent some minutes walking aimlessly through Lester's flat, trying not to imagine all the worst-case scenarios that filled his head. He finally poured himself a drink from Lester's liquor cabinet-- whisky, the cheap stuff Lester had taken to keeping around specially for Becker-- and downed it in one go. He poured himself another then took a book off Lester's shelf and sat down on the couch. Although his eyes moved over the pages, he couldn't have said what the book even was, let alone what it was about.

An indeterminate time later, which felt like ages to Becker, Lester came out of his room and sat heavily down on the couch next to Becker, their thighs pressing together. Becker draped his arm around Lester's shoulders and felt him push back infinitesimally into his arm. "Did it go all right?"

"Better than I expected, to be honest," Lester answered. "She was good about it. She said she wants me to be happy."

"I'm glad." In truth he was relieved, more than that, he was fucking overjoyed, but he waited for Lester's lead. Becker was so out of his depth here and with every move he made, every word he said, he was half-expecting to make a complete mess of things. He could hardly believe he'd made it this far without Lester kicking him out on his arse.

"We were always better friends than we were husband and wife. I kept too much from her." After a long moment of silence, Lester continued, "She asked if I wanted to bring you on Saturday."

Becker's eyes widened. "What? She did? What did you-- Are you--"

"I told her I would, if you wanted."

"James, you don't have to... If you're not comfortable..."

Lester turned to face him, his expression serious. "You were right, Hils. If we're going to do this, and I want to, then you need to meet my children. My life is full of enough secrets without this one, too."

Speechless, and feeling that somehow words wouldn't be enough anyway, Becker used his hand to keep Lester's head in place and brought their lips together. Lester made a quiet noise in the back of his throat and moved so he was partially sitting in Becker's lap. Becker slipped one hand under Lester's shirt and thought that maybe, finally, they were back to normal.

-

They passed the entirety of the trip to Lester's family's home in almost complete silence. Becker's hand rested on Lester's thigh and every so often Lester would take one hand off the wheel and squeeze Becker's fingers. Lester's breath quickened ever so slightly as they neared their destination and before they'd come to the house he pulled over to the side of the road. He dropped his hands in his lap. "David's the youngest, and then Julia and Henry are the twins--"

"James," Becker said softly. "I remember."

"Yes, of course you do. Can never be too careful though."

Becker leaned across the seat for a swift kiss, and then held Lester's jaw in his hand. "James, everything will be fine. Okay?"

"Yes, okay. I know that." Lester visibly collected himself, straightening his shoulders and normalising his breath. He looked much more himself, the calm, capable man in charge of the ARC. "I should tell you that I asked Agatha not to say anything about you to the kids. I wanted to introduce you myself."

"That's all right. Whatever you think is best."

"All right." Lester put the car back into drive and they eased out onto the street.

Becker didn't gape as they pulled into Lester's drive, but it was a close thing. Lester's house was gorgeous, set back from the road, large and old-fashioned looking. It was mostly brick with some half-timbering on the upper level, with ivy vines creeping up the sides.

A dark-haired boy was kicking a ball in the garden and two teenagers were sitting with their backs against a tree. The boy ran toward the car as Lester's door opened. "Daddy!" he yelled and barreled straight into Lester.

"Oof," Lester said and returned David's hug.

The twins hung back slightly, trying to look disinterested. They both had Lester's light eyes and long, narrow face. Julia came forward for a quick hug but Henry just watched. He turned a curious gaze to Becker. "Who's he?"

"This is--" And then Lester stopped and glanced at Becker with a look that was quietly desperate.

"Becker," Becker said smoothly. "I'm a friend of your dad's."

"Becker? That's your name?" Henry said in a sceptical-sounding voice. He arched one eyebrow and Becker suddenly knew exactly what Lester had been like growing up.

He was grinning so widely his face hurt and the kids-- never mind Lester-- probably feared for his sanity. "Technically it's Hilary, but everyone calls me Becker."

David giggled. "Hilary? But that's a girl's name!"

"Why do you think I go by Becker?"

David collapsed into giggles and Lester ruffled his hair. "Come now, David, don't be rude. But it is a stupid name, isn't it?" he added in a stage whisper, sharing a conspiratorial smile with his son. Becker was completely charmed.

While Becker was preoccupied watching Lester and David, Julia had sidled up next to him. Becker jumped as she squeezed a hand around his biceps.

"Julia, where are your manners?" Lester said with a frown. "You can't just go around touching guests. I certainly hope that's not how you typically behave. If it is, I think I'd rather not know."

She ignored him in favor of contemplating Becker. "Your arms are amazing." For most teenage girls, her behaviour would have seemed flirtatious, but Julia's touch was more clinical, as though she were gathering information, and when she spoke she was merely stating a fact.

"Oh, wonderful, that's exactly what we need, someone else to stroke Becker's ego."

Becker smiled down at Julia. "Comes with the territory. I'm-- I was military. Special Forces."

"Really? Cool," Henry said. "Are you an officer, then? What's your rank?"

"Captain," Becker said and was still able to recall the pride he had once got from that, back when he'd been deserving of it.

David tugged at his hand. "Have you done lots of fighting? Have you killed people?"

"That's not a very appropriate thing to ask, David," Lester interjected. "War isn't a game."

"I know, Daddy," David said and hung his head a little. "I'm sorry, Mr. Becker. Captain."

Becker squatted down to put his face more on a level with David's. "That's all right, David. I have seen fighting, I did a tour in Afghanistan. And you can just call me Becker, okay? Or, if you like, Hils. That's what your dad calls me."

"Okay. Hils." David seemed pleased by this, as though he had been afforded a special honour.

"Why did you say you _were_ military? You aren't any more?" Henry asked.

"I resigned my commission."

"Why?"

Becker could feel Lester's eyes on him. "It's a long story," he said and hoped they would take the hint. It wasn't only that he couldn't explain the circumstances; it was that he didn't want to. He hadn't ever even had this conversation with Lester and he certainly wasn't about to have it with Lester's children.

Thankfully they seemed to understand. "How do you know Dad?" Julia asked.

"He's my boss, actually."

"But what would _you_ do for him?"

"Security," Lester told them as Becker wondered whether he should be offended by Julia's scepticism. "Becker is my head of security."

All three children looked disappointed at this. "Oh," Henry said. "It must be boring then. Mum says Dad's job is really boring."

Becker was only just able to contain his snicker.

Lester rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad spends his days in meetings, making phone calls, and dealing with obnoxious amounts of paperwork, but I hope you all keep in mind that England would fall apart without me."

Henry shook his head as though this was a familiar conversation. "Keep telling yourself that, Dad."

"Oh, James, I heard all the noise and thought you must be here," said a woman who could only have been Agatha Lester. She was tall and thin, auburn hair in a loose braid. She kissed Lester on the cheek and then held her hand out to Becker. "You must be Becker. I'm Agatha."

Becker took her hand, surprised at her firm grip. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"I'm glad you could come. I hope the children have remembered their manners...?" she said, imperious gaze sweeping over them.

"For the most part," Lester said.

"They've been great," Becker assured her.

"Can I get you anything? Something to drink?" Agatha offered.

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

David had retrieved his ball and held it up to Lester. "Can we have a game now, Daddy? You promised you would."

A faint flush crept up the back of Lester's neck as he glanced swiftly at Becker and then away. "Did I? But maybe Becker--"

"He can play too. I bet you're brilliant at football, aren't you?"

"I'm pretty good, yeah," Becker agreed. "I think it's a fantastic idea."

Lester looked betrayed by that but Becker thought he really should have expected nothing less. As though Becker would pass up an opportunity to see Lester participate in something as undignified as playing a game.

"How lovely," Agatha said. "We'll all play." She fixed her gaze on the twins as she spoke. They both seemed startled by the turn of events but neither made a comment.

Becker couldn't deny that he was not a little startled as well. While he couldn't have said what he had expected to occur, playing a game of football certainly hadn't entered his thoughts. Still, it was probably easier this way- less conversation and thus less opportunity to make a fool of himself.

With the added bonus of the possibility of watching Lester make a fool of himself. It was really a great situation all around.

Becker was bemused, however, to discover that Lester actually wasn't half-bad. He was clearly nervous in front of Becker but the longer they played the more he got into it and thus the more relaxed he became. Becker probably shouldn't have been surprised at the competitive streak his lover displayed but he still couldn't quite believe it when Lester started throwing elbows at him to knock him off the ball. He even kicked him in the shin once. Becker vowed to make Lester pay for the bruises he was doubtless going to have.

The impromptu game eventually came to a halt when Agatha laughingly insisted that she needed a break. Lester, his breath panting, seemed grateful for the cease of activity. Becker nudged him in the ribs. "Had enough, James? I think your cushy office job's left you out of shape."

"Bugger off, Hils. Some of us have more important things to do than fritter hours away in the weight room."

"As if you don't appreciate every minute I spend there," Becker said with a smirk.

They all sat down at a table on the porch while Agatha went inside to get them something to drink. David started chattering enthusiastically about his football team while Becker made note of the way Julia and Henry kept looking at him, their cool, evaluating expressions reminding him in no small way of their father.

When Agatha returned, Becker gratefully accepted a cold glass of lemonade. Passing around the tray of drinks, Agatha then sat down at the table across from Becker. A strong jaw and a long nose kept her from being conventionally beautiful, but Becker liked her face. "You were great out there, Becker. You must play a lot."

"Yeah, I used to. Rugby was always more my sport, though."

"Really? Henry plays rugby." Henry glanced at them as he heard his name, but looked hastily away, bending his head toward his sister's. "He's very good," Agatha continued proudly. "He has the same competitive drive as his father."

"Does he play dirty like James, too?"

Agatha laughed. "James has never shied away from bending the rules to get what he wants."

"I know that very well," Becker said ruefully.

Agatha leveled a considering gaze at him. "I imagine you must."

Becker felt his face heat up. Fuck, was he blushing? He never blushed. Seeking out Lester, he saw that his lover was being pulled to his feet by David. Lester briefly touched Becker's arm as he passed. "You okay here?" he asked.

"Sure," Becker replied, even though being left on his own with Agatha, Henry, and Julia was the last thing he wanted. He stared longingly at Lester's back, wishing he could have devised some excuse to go with him.

"You're adorable," Agatha said, drawing Becker's attention. Her blue eyes were warm. "I can see why James is so fond of you."

Unsure of how to respond to that as well as what facet of his not exactly exemplary behaviour had prompted it, Becker said, "Thanks?"

She stood up. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Becker, but I hope you'll excuse me, I have a few chores to attend to."

Unfortunately, this left Becker alone with the twins. They made him feel nervous and uncomfortable, and he hadn't yet decided whether their similarity to Lester made it better or worse. He finished his lemonade and examined the wet ring the glass had left on the table, desperately hoping some neutral topic of conversation would come to him.

"You're rather young for him, aren't you?"

Startled, Becker stared at Julia. "I-- I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes. "We know you're Dad's boyfriend."

"We're not stupid, you know," Henry said. "Dad doesn't usually bring friends over to meet us, and when I say 'usually', I mean 'never'. And don't think we didn't notice that stumble in your introduction, he must have lost his nerve."

"Besides all that, we've seen how he looks at you. I don't know a lot of guys who look that way at their friends."

"It's a little bit sickening, honestly."

"But... you don't care?" Becker said. He felt off-balance, like he'd been caught in a firefight with his trousers down. "You don't mind?"

Julia shrugged. "Should we? It's his business and it's not as though he's around enough for it to matter."

"Why should we pay any attention to his life when he doesn't pay any attention to ours?" Henry added.

"That's not fair," Becker said. "Your dad loves you."

"Not enough to be here," Henry countered. "He remembers he has kids on holidays and a few scattered weekends when it suits him."

Becker clenched his fists in his lap because he wanted nothing more than to slap Henry's face and he doubted anyone would be impressed by that. "Is that what you honestly think?" He glanced at Julia, but she looked away from him, biting her lip. "He loves you so much. You have no idea how much he wants to be with you."

"Then why isn't he? He's always too busy, he has work, he's sorry he missed the game but he'll be there next time, promise. And now he brings you along and for what? So that now when he misses another weekend we'll know it's because he's with you?" Henry shoved his chair back and stormed off.

Julia stared at the spot where her brother had been and then darted her eyes to Becker, before she too stood up. Without saying anything, she rushed after Henry.

Becker dropped his head into his hands. Fuck. Why had he even said anything? He used to be so good at keeping his feelings to himself.

He heard Lester approaching, his steps slower and heavier than usual. Becker lifted his eyes just as Lester bent down to let David slide off his back. "All right, that's enough. You're much too big for this sort of thing and my back can't take any more. Go find your mother, will you?"

David ran off and Lester slid into the seat next to Becker, placing his hand at the small of Becker's back. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Becker shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Hils... They're teenagers. You can't take what they say to heart. Henry's always angry; it's nothing to do with you."

Twisting in his chair, for only a moment Becker let himself lean into Lester, breathing in his familiar warm smell, and then he sat back again. "Some of it's to do with me."

Lester rubbed his hand in circles against Becker's back. "I was afraid this would happen. I didn't want you to get caught up in the middle of my family drama, love, I'm sorry. If they're upset it's because of me."

Becker turned his face to the side, taking in the weary set of Lester's features and his sad eyes.

"I didn't need to hear any of your conversation to be able to guess what was said. You think I don't know what Henry thinks of me? And Julia, too, though she's a bit more forgiving."

"I know you love them, James."

"But that's not enough, is it?" Lester said and then drew his hand away, getting to his feet as David and Agatha came toward them. David wrapped one arm around Lester's waist as though he was afraid Lester might vanish. "I think it's probably time we left, Agatha."

"No!" David said. "Aren't you staying the weekend, Daddy? I thought you and Hils could come to my football game."

"I'm sorry, David, but I don't think--"

"Nonsense," Agatha said. "You're both staying for dinner and I'll make up the guest room. The children haven't seen you in ages, James."

"I know, Agatha, believe me, but I thought, with Becker here--"

"Becker is perfectly welcome here."

Becker took a step closer. "I don't want to be any trouble."

Agatha smiled warmly at him. "It's no trouble at all. Now, I won't hear another word of it, from either of you. David, go and have a wash, you're filthy."

David scowled but did as he was told, pausing to shout back at his father. "Daddy, come on, I want to tell you something."

Lester shrugged in a helpless way at Becker and then followed David. "Yes, I'm coming, David. Your wish is my command and all that."

And so Becker was left standing awkwardly with his lover's ex-wife. "Agatha, this really isn't necessary. You don't have to do this."

"Becker... Hilary, can I call you Hilary? I'm going to be honest with you. My first concern is my children. It's so rare that they get to see their father, so I wasn't about to let him beg off because of you. I know he tries, but... And the worse things get the less he's here. I think he thinks it's easier that way, but it's not."

Becker shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I can leave, though, myself. Wouldn't that be better?"

Agatha laid her hand with its perfectly manicured nails against Becker's elbow. "It's okay, honestly. You seem like a nice young man and I just want James to be happy. If you can do that, and I really think you can, then I couldn't care less who you are. God knows I couldn't do it."

"I-- I try."

"Well, that's all you can do, isn't it? Come on, let's go into the house."

They walked up the steps to the house, Agatha with her arm linked in Becker's, and Becker couldn't help but think how ridiculous it all was. It still didn't feel that long ago that he and Lester had been sharing impersonal shags in the toilet and now he was here, walking arm in arm with Lester's ex-wife on the way to dinner, wondering whether he could help reconcile Lester with his children or whether he would only make it worse because they hated him.

Inside the house, Agatha excused herself to go into the kitchen and Becker wandered into the living room, where the rest of the family seemed to have congregated. Lester was seated on the couch with David, looking through a large book. Julia knelt on the ground next to them and all three were laughing.

"I'm sorry for being a prick back there," Henry said from behind Becker's shoulder.

Becker leaned against the doorway. He wanted to say something about how Henry shouldn't speak so harshly about his father, shouldn't be so hard on him, but he knew it would probably do more harm than good. "That's okay. I know how I must seem to you."

Henry shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at a spot on the wall that was vaguely in the vicinity of Becker's face. "No, I was a jerk. You seem okay. It's just..." He shrugged.

"You don't have to explain. I'd be caught off-guard if my dad suddenly showed up with a boyfriend, too."

Henry's lips quirked in a half-smile that would have been perfectly at home on Lester's face. Becker turned back to the living room in time to catch Lester watching him, eyes shifting between Henry and Becker. The set of his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw, the crease in his forehead-- all the little things that most people would miss told Becker exactly how much this meant to Lester.

Becker walked into the room and perched on the arm of the couch, his knee brushing Lester's back. Lester fretted about ruining the furniture, but the tight line of his body relaxed just slightly.

The whole situation was ridiculous, but Becker hoped they could make it work. He was certainly willing to try.

_**End** _


End file.
